Seeing Double
by patientalien
Summary: There's enough Anakin to go around, even if he is a little confused as to what's going on. Dorme/Anakin, of a sort.


This was written for citizenjess after talking at length about the need for a realistic Dormekin fic. I'm not so sure about "realistic", but, well, here you go.

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**Seeing Double**

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Anakin Skywalker was seeing double. He was pretty sure he wasn't drunk enough for that just yet, which meant one of his wife's handmaidens had walked in on them in the throes of passion. And she looked angry. He wondered, briefly, which one of the seven or eight attendants she was; they all looked alike, after all, and he could never remember their names. But then his attention reverted back to his wife and the fact she was naked and he was having sex with her.

"Ani!" The handmaiden sounded really pissed off. "What do you think you're doing?" Anakin thought it was awfully presumptuous for a handmaiden to ask such a thing when it was pretty obvious what he was doing, but he sighed and looked over at her.

"Listen, Corde, Sabe, Motee, whoever," he said, "I'm trying to sex up your mistress, so if you wouldn't mind..." He turned back to his wife who, he suddenly noticed, looked a little different than usual. He chalked it up to too much brandy with the Chancellor, and shrugged.

"And Dorme!" the handmaiden continued. "How _could_ you?" She sounded awfully betrayed, as though Anakin were _her_ husband, and... oh, uh oh.

The woman he'd been in the process of shagging squirmed out from under him and stood, wrapping a sheet around herself, her head hanging. "Forgive me, milady," she said contritely. "He didn't give me much of a chance to explain."

Anakin winced and bade goodbye to his balls as the woman he'd _thought_ was a handmaiden but was _actually_ his wife stalked over to the bed and stood over him, arms crossed. "Well?" she snapped. "Care to explain yourself?"

Anakin grabbed at the other sheet and stumbled to his feet. "Uh, you see, Tinkle Monkey, the thing is, you... well, it's..." He wracked his brain to come up with a suitable explanation beyond he was tired and drunk and horny and not really paying attention. "You all are so beautiful," he attempted. "And I thought she was you! It was... uh, it was an homage! Sweetums?"

Padme let out a sharp breath. "Ani, you don't know what 'homage' means," she informed him, and he had to admit, she had a point. He'd heard Obi-Wan use it once. "There are ways to tell us apart, if you were thinking with something other than your dick for a change!" The commotion had brought several of the other handmaidens into the room, and Anakin made himself focus on the one who was speaking, because *that* one was his wife.

Anakin scrambled to agree with her. "Right!" he exclaimed. "I mean, uh, this one," he pointed to one, "this one has curlier hair?" He didn't know if that was true, but he needed to get out of this. And if he could still get laid, so much the better. "And this one," he pointed to another, "is a little bit taller." Again, he wasn't entirely sure it was true and he didn't feel like actually looking carefully at any of them. "And this one," he swung around to a third, "is a little bit uglier."

The one he'd proclaimed a little uglier tapped her foot impatiently. "Ani," she said firmly. "You did not just call your wife ugly."

Except he had. Oops. "Uhm, no?" he replied. "Of course not, Honey Lumpkins! You're beautiful! You're the most beautiful creature in the galaxy! That Angel on Iego had nothing on you, baby!"

Padme's expression darkened. "Did you just call me a *creature*?" she asked. "And what were you doing with an Angel, anyway? Did you 'accidentally' think _she_ was me, too?"

Anakin held up his hands and backed away slowly, the sheet pooling down to the floor. All the women stared, and Anakin couldn't help feeling slightly gratified by that. But now wasn't the time to be pleased the Chosen Cock was being admired. "Of course not!" he exclaimed. "How could you think I would mistake _anyone_ for you?"

"Because you were having sex with Dorme!" Padme replied, her voice rising an octave.

Oh, right, he had been. Anakin found he was losing track of why he was defending himself. He was glad Padme seemed to know what was going on. No, wait, that wasn't right either. "I'm confused," he said aloud.

"No kriffing kidding," Padme snapped. "Go home, Ani." She gestured to the door.

Anakin remained rooted to the spot. "But... but... this is my home," he said, realizing that his plans for sweet loving with his wife were not going to come to fruition.

"Not really," she replied. "It's my Senatorial apartment. Go back to the Temple." She pointed to his exposed crotch. "Because if you don't, I can't promise you'll still have that when you wake up in the morning."

Anakin grabbed his pants and ran.


End file.
